


Dangan Ronpa: Tale of Doubt

by EmitOmNom



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Fan Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), Gen, Murder Mystery, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:35:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22326442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmitOmNom/pseuds/EmitOmNom
Summary: Preparing a killing game takes a lot of effort, but inside an unidentified hotel somewhere in North America, another one had begun. Sixteen students, all carrying the titles of Ultimate in their respective fields, all brought together for the sake of one last finale. Where? Why? How? Who knows.Another Dangan Ronpa fan fiction, written in a prose format, featuring all original characters. Enjoy the ride!
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue: From the Ceiling to the Halls - Part 1

The beeping never stopped. It was constant, always following him, always daunting in the shadows from behind yet never dwindling in volume. Interrupting what could have been silence. A stalker, he called it, a reminder of a death willing to strike at any moment.

_Beep… beep… beep…_

Ah, there it was again. Even in his dreams, a paradise that should belong as a retreat from reality, the beeping persisted. An invader to his peace. Sometimes, he’d get a visitor to that interrupted peace. They would come with promises that it would cease soon. Those promises were never truth. He knew that. They knew that. But hope remained. Someday, he told himself, the beeping would stop. Someday he would be allowed to live in a world, if only for a minute, unperturbed from the beeping.

_Beep… beep… beep…_

A fantasy. A fantasy further than his dreams. But for now, the noise would continue. Unrelenting, just for him.

_Beep… beep… bee--_

And then the beeping stopped.

And then his head rose.

Immediately, his body froze. Pale gaunt, fingers, fingers he didn’t recognize, shook below where he could even bring himself to look. His eyes were busy tracing the entirety of the room, left right, up down, his focus refusing to be contained. Everywhere was color, a rainbow of unfamiliar stimulus. Still trembling, his hand covered his eyes, anything to calm down.

“What the hell?” His voice fell out without warning, gravelly and struggling to pass through his throat, many years older than the person he remembered himself to be. Remembered? No, that’s wrong. He didn’t remember anything. “Who the hell?” He knew the twinge that began to take over, a shake of panic and fear, growing in volume. “Where am I?”

His voice was still gravel. To his ears, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Pain was the feeling. To stop the pain, he coughed, shut his eyes. Too much was happening, he needed to gather himself. After all, nothing was wrong, that’s what a whisper in his brain told him. Trust yourself, yes, that’s the smart move. Slowly, he opened his eyes, as if waking up a second time. A table. He was sitting at a table, in a chair, not a bed. There were many pairs of tables and chairs, all facing towards a giant board on the wall. The colors were still attacking him, yet he was adjusting. There were windows on the walls, providing the only light for the room. It was a gloomy, grey light, dimmed further by thin curtains, blowing and puffing with the wind. He liked it, he decided, better than before.

Now, with a slight smile playing upon his face, he turned to the other side of the room. Strung up with rope and hanging from the ceiling was a girl. She seemed to be asleep, a feat, he considered, when done vertically. She was pretty, on the shorter, plumper side, long hair pulled into a ponytail that seemed to radiate out from behind her, wire glasses sitting on the very tip of her nose with a single cracked frame. Her sweater, with wide stripes, hung from her in what was a wrinkled mess, a small hole in the middle dripping with a red liquid. It stained the sweater, some even in her long hair, as well as a line down from her lips. He recognized it as blood. Why?

He pondered his next course of action. He was still sitting, and he couldn’t reach the hanging girl from his chair. Standing was likely the best option, albeit a risky one. He steadied a hand on the table for support, moving a tentative leg from underneath it to slightly outside. Then he unbent the knee, his other knee as well, balancing the best he could. It was easier than he expected. His body flew up in recognition. Next was walking. He took a wobble, then a step, then another. Again, easier than expected.

It was only a quick walk before the girl was in front of him, much taller with the assistance of the rope. He tilted his head back for a better look as she loomed from above. She was cold, yet soft. He poked her thigh, hoping she’d awake, but no such luck. “Hi,” he said. Gravel still present, but with a clearer mind came a softer, kinder volume. However, the girl’s eyes still remained closed, her limbs still just hanging as a marionette’s would.

“Are you awake?” Another push of her leg, a small shake. Still cold. Still limp. But from her hand, held stuck in the folds of her fingers, dropped a slip of paper.

 _“Hello Austin!”_ it read, a scraggly mess of attempted cursive _. “We hope you have a nice time here at Gloss Hotel. If you are confused about anything, don’t worry, we’re here to help. For example, this girl is Alexis Montgomery. She’ll be asleep for a while, don’t bother waking her. For now, you can leave and make your way down the hallway. Enjoy yourself!”_

And there it ended.

He looked back up to the girl, the one the paper called Alexis Montgomery, and the smile from before finally tugged down. If she was tired, she should sleep. It was only fair. He fixed the note nicely, returned it to his pocket just in case.

The light in the room seemed to dull greyer.

Austin, the paper had said. Hello Austin. Exclamation Point. Perhaps that was him, Austin. Like the girl was Alexis, he was Austin. Austin and Alexis. Alliterative.

For the second time, he decided to walk. Now, with more confidence and spring, smoother and only the slightest bit of hesitation. It was towards the window where the dimming light came, shouldering away the curtains and looking out. A giant white brick wall, a familiar sight, the first familiar sight. He nodded in satisfaction and turned to the door.

Oh, damn. He had gotten ahead of himself with the whole walking thing. A few steps and he thought he was a master, but stability was easier said than done. He tumbled down towards the floor, scattering a few tables and chairs around him. One chair caught his fall, back hitting and quickly twitching in annoyance. He readjusted himself, using the tables for balance once again.

The door was normal, he decided. The knob was a shiny metal, sticking out like an L from the frame, a frame made of a material either wood or a copycat wood. Hand on knob, push it down, then forward. It swung open cleanly, without noise, a well oiled and engineered machine. Satisfying. He took one last look over at the still sleeping girl. Alexis Montgomery.

His smile rose again.

And he was Austin.


	2. Prologue: From the Ceiling to the Halls - Part 2

There was a funny little guy in Austin’s mind telling him that maybe, outside the room, there would be nothing. He didn’t have any memories of using a door before, making it an exciting experience, but never using a door also meant never knowing what was beyond one. He didn’t have to wait long to find out, outside was another wall.

The note that had fallen from Alexis’s hand mentioned something about a hallway, Austin figured this was it. The walls were closer together than the room before, yet when he looked to his right it seemed to go on forever. On the wall which he had walked through, there were more doors leading all the way down to the far off ending, too many for him to count from the distance.

Logically, obviously, there weren’t tables leading all the way down for him to use as assistance, but that also meant no tables for him to hurt himself on if he fell. Tables were good, but not harmless. Walls worked fine as far as balance went, that would be his crutch. However, it was a good opportunity to practice walking.

He left the door to the room open for when Alexis would finally wake up, then began his trek down the hall.

Each door he passed had a different design painted onto the grain. One had some flowers, another a loaf of bread. Many motifs he didn’t recognize, while others were simple to the point of uselessness.

Black spirals. Bladed shoes.

Purple vial. Single stripe.

His breathing began to falter, stamina fading.

Despite his heavy panting, by the time Austin reached the end of the hallway his wobbling didn’t regress to anything beyond that, not a single trip or tumble. There was a turn, he turned, and then there was a giant concrete door.

It was unlike the myriad doors he passed prior, but two slabs of concrete without handles, the hinges connected to the wall on the opposite sides of which they met. Large, double, maybe triple Austin’s height. Intimidating was the word he’d use. He pushed a shoulder against one of the slabs, straining forward with the little energy remaining in his system. A bystander might’ve ran at the sight of the ghostly pale skeleton of a man with a face contorting into a cartoonist caricature of frustration. In response, a low moan rose as the door slowly grumbled forward.

A ray of light peeled through the increasing crack, particles of dust showing their gleeful selves dancing in the air. Austin watched, entranced, progress on the door stopping.

Then a pair of freckle covered hands, nails painted a bright pink, obscured his view. He turned, face to chest with a grey hoodie. Up a little further, a radiating smile with cheeks like speckled balloons. A giantess of a woman, no shorter than six foot. Likely well over. Square face, small nose, eyes accentuated with makeup. Her hair was thin and curled, a dirty blonde dyed with brighter highlights, parted off to the side and spiralling a few inches past her shoulders. She wore an oversized hoodie, grey with a blue and red logo Austin didn’t recognize, perhaps a polar bear, and tight blue jeans with a few rips, revealing muscular thighs and calves.

“Hello!” She said with an upbeat soprano. Her peppy energy spread down to toes, bouncing on the very tips and growing taller. One of her hands grabbed Austin’s own, pulling him into the light past the door.

The first room contrasted the hallway, both contrasted this new one. A spacious lounge, basic white, yet luxurious, furniture dressed the walls. Long bright windows displayed a view of a courtyard, a rotating door of glass allowing even more light through. There was a long low counter, a boy covered in layers of jackets and clothes behind it, and a staircase beside it. The stairs lead to an overhang, also made of glass. Another pair of doors, decorated to look as intimidating as possible, were set below the overhang.

The tall girl wasted no time dragging him forward and to one of many couches. She dropped him onto one of the cushions, then herself. “Nice to meet you.” Her long legs crossed into a pretzel. “My name is Evelyn Grey, call me Eve, Lyn, whatever you want!”

She was amiable to a fault, an uncomfortable approach to Austin who had only been through dreary rooms until her introduction.

“The guy over there,” she said, “is Matthew Baine. Give us a wave, Matty boy!”

The boy behind the counter, Matthew, responded with nothing but a giant scowl. He was relatively short for a man, but his frame was a healthy mix of fat and muscle. Long black bangs, short hair, the fringe kept out of his large, sharp eyes with a thin headband. His first layer of clothes was a bubble patterned jacket, followed by an unbuttoned plaid, finally a plain v-neck. He looked very warm, bundled up underneath everything, crouching down to investigate some files in a drawer. His arms wrapped around his knees, jaw resting on top with an unpassionate expression.

“Don’t mind him, he’s tired. And confused. But we all are.” Evelyn stopped and studied Austin for a moment. “Sorry, I just kept on talking. What’s your name?”

“Austin,” he said at a whisper.

“Well, Austin, as I said before, it’s great to meet you. I bet you have, like, a gazillion questions. We don’t have much answers, but we can try our best to answer!”

Austin tried his best to imitate her glowing grin, which still prevailed with every word she spoke. Honestly, he couldn’t think of anything to ask. There was the question of where he was, but he didn’t really care for knowing. He liked it, that’s what mattered. The other question he could’ve asked, who were the two strangers, had already been answered. In the end, he simply sat there, awkwardly staring forward at Evelyn.

“Talents.”

A deep voice shook Austin, physically and from his thoughts. He turned to see Matthew, who somehow stealthily made his way from the counter to the couch without being noticed. He blinked, an innocent blink. “You’re forgettin’ ‘bout talents and the lot.” Matthew casually took a seat beside him, preoccupied with his fingers.

“That’s right! Sorry again, Austin, let’s postpone question time. You’re an Ultimate, right?”

“Ultimate?” Austin asked with the tilt of his head.

Evelyn’s smile fell into a wide open jaw. “Uh, yeah. National Talent Agency, all the jazz. Like, I’m the Ultimate Basketball Player.” Her hands raised in two thumbs up to jab towards herself, back straightening taller in pride. “Do you really not know what an Ultimate is?”

“So you’re a super cool Basketball player?” He was aware that his voice was raising in curiosity, as well that his face was reddening with his embarrassment towards not even knowing what seemed to be basic knowledge to Evelyn.

“Not just super cool,” she laughed, taking no notice of his shame. “But, like, the best in the entire wide world! Every year, the National Talent Agency passes out sixteen Ultimate titles to new high school students, and, four years ago, I was given one. Four years ago, all of us were given one, even Matthew!” She regained composure, and more confidence, with every word of praise she spoke towards herself.

Matthew, peering up from his nails, looked at his couch companions with knitted eyebrows. “Whaddya say your name was?”

“Austin,” Austin replied.

“Last name?” He slurred his words, making the ‘last’ sound more like ‘lazz.’

It was silly, and weird, to not have a last name. Austin knew that much. But, he didn’t know his own. Matthew was clearly much more on edge than the still grinning Evelyn, and responding with confusion would raise suspicions.

He didn’t want to be suspicious. What  _ did _ he want? He knew what it was, but not the word.

Austin sped to skim his memories through every film, every novel and story. Name, name, name.

“Austin Wadsworth.” There was a name, one that fit.

“I’ve ain’t ever heard of him.” Matthew’s knees raised closer to his chest. “Maybe he really ain’t an Ultimate.” His glare tightened. “Stupid, for not knowing what they are, though.”

Another laugh from Evelyn. “Well, let’s get back to questions then? If he doesn’t know what Ultimates are, he can ask if he, like, really wants to know.”

“Um, you said Matthew was one too?” Austin squished his legs as close together as he could, despite the already large distance between the others and the uncomfort caused. “What’s his talent?”

His question was met with silence.

“Hey, Matty, that was for you. You going to answer?” Evelyn reached over to break Matthew’s gaze with a wildly waving arm. He watched her wiggly spectacle for a moment, face stone cold from emotion. Then, he slowly lowered it to be covered by his jeans. Quiet again.

“He doesn’t have to answer if he doesn’t want to,” Austin added on in a panic. Something about Matthew made him scared to anger him. Though, the same could be said for the obviously well built Evelyn, but that was a more logical fear.

He tilted his head ever so slightly that he could watch Austin with an eye. “‘S fine. I can do it. I’m just wantin’ ta sleep, ‘s all.” He took a deep breath, unfurled himself as far his body allowed, and yawned. “Matthew Blaine, yeah. You have that. Ultimate Baker. ‘Kay?”

“Matty’s really, really good with bread. One day, a few years back, he started working at a small bakery in his hometown, and it quickly escalated to one of the top in the nation,” Evelyn said. “So if we ever need any carbs, we have our man!”

Matthew flopped to the side, away from Evelyn and Austin. “I can cook other things, too,” he mumbled.

“Right, right. Next question?”

Austin noticed his own willingness to get to know the pair of Ultimates. It was a want he wished for, but not one he had ever been this close to experiencing. “Before, you made it sound like there are others here?”

“Yup. If I’m thinking right, you’re the thirteenth. Everyone else are Ultimates, that’s why we thought you were too.” As she spoke, her expression began to darken, smile turning to a grimace. “We’re all Ultimates with no idea where the hell this is or how we got here. Imagine that.”

“You don’t know where this is?” Austin raised an eyebrow.

She only stared at him for an instant, small eyes running up and down his posture trying to figure something, anything out. And in that instant, he noticed the wind blow past her veil of optimism to betray a core of distrust. “Nope.”

“It’s a hotel,” added Matthew. “No one recognizes it.”

Austin nodded. Hotel Gloss, the note had said. He patted at the pocket, paper responded with a muffled crumpling. “So where are they? The others.”

“Lookin’ around the hotel. Tryin’ ta figure out what’s what and all that.” His eyes shut and body limp against the cushions, Matthew barely seemed awake as he continued to speak. “We were left behind ‘cuz they said, for anyone new, Evelyn would be a good buddy to meet first. I just wanted to sleep.” A large yawn. “Hopin’ no one would show up.”

“I think it was David who had the plan,” said Evelyn. She had fixed her positivity back to her face. “He’s this real lanky fellow, dressed up all nice. David suggested we should split up into pairs and look around. Some went outside, the rest upstairs. That big door there? The one with that nice black paint? That wouldn’t open. The door you came through was locked shut as well. Thanks for opening it!”

Austin thought for a moment. “Maybe the other one will open when the people inside come out.”

“Exactly what I was thinkin’.” A barely visible nod of Matthew’s head and a slew of words sounding more like a stage shy drunk attempting a role during a cold read.

“So anymore questions?” Evelyn asked through giggles.

“Um.” There wasn’t much anymore, but there was something fun, a sense of nostalgia produced by talking with the pair. “How’d you get your Ultimate talent?”

Her grin grew as bright as it could, her cheeks expanding and eyes squinting into excited wrinkles. “I like you, Austin! Only good guys ask about me.” Matthew readjusted himself away. “So, alright, four years ago we all got our talents. I think it was like, I don’t know, start of middle school I started playing? Before that I just did soccer for a club. By middle school, I was already like twice the size of all the other itty bitty kiddos, so the teacher who ran it asked if I wanted to join. So I joined.” She attempted to strike a cutesy pose, doubling up on peace signs in front of her face, but reeled in laughter before she could finish. “Being an Ultimate is cool as hell though. I even got to graduate school early to play basketball. Last year I played in the Olympics!”

“Woah.” Another question, one he wouldn’t ask, what was the Olympics? “That is super cool.”

“Evelyn already told ya most of my story,” said Matthew. “I baked for money, needed money ta supply myself, needed ta supply myself ta sleep.”

Austin nodded, that made sense. “That’s really all the questions I have.”

“Okay!” Evelyn swung to her feet, no assistance from the part of her hands. Her curly locks blew backwards, much to her disdain as she immediately fluffed it back in front her shoulders. “Then I guess it’s time for you to get going, and, like, meet the others.”


End file.
